


Memory Always Remains

by DTKokoro



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:57:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DTKokoro/pseuds/DTKokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warren wakes with no memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory Always Remains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atlantia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantia/gifts).



> Merry Yuletide!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this story! I hope you like it! You know what stumped me the most on this? Superhero names! Gosh! Anyways, enjoy!

He wakes to beeping. His eyes flutter open. An IV drips next to a machine. He squeezes his eyes shut. How did he get here? He cranes his neck to take in his surroundings. A dark wood dresser along one wall, chair in the corner, two doors. The door opens slowly. A short, balding man enters, reading a chart.

"Well, young master Warren, how are we doing today?"

"Bit of a headache."

The man jumps, his chart falling to the ground. "You're awake."

Warren grimaces,” Apparently So where..."

"This is fantastic!" The man cuts him off. "You had us most worried. I need to inform your father." He pivots and scuttles from the room.

"Am I?" Warren finishes to an empty room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What happened to me," Warren licks his lips, for some reason the next word feels strange on his tongue. "Father?"

They are sitting at the table, eating breakfast. It's been five days since Warren woke. This is the first day he’d been able to leave his bed. After being under for nearly a month, he'd surprised everyone, including Dr. Mentis, with his speedy recovery.

The Baron sets his fork down. "We were in battle, fighting the insufferable Commander and his offspring. And the boy," he clinches his fist, "did something to you. You collapsed, and I got you out of there." He rests his hand on Warren's neck. His hand is cold, and Warren fights off the urge to shake it off. "You are more important to me than anything, son."

Warren nods, and chews slowly. The eggs are runny and bland. Too much milk used, not enough time on the stove, no seasonings. "Pepper, salt, a little garlic, tomatoes..." Warren mutters.

"Did you say something, son?"

"Do I cook?"

The Baron snorts. "Now why would you do that? Cooking is for minions and women. Now don't forget your meds." He hands the pill bottle to Warren. Dutifully, Warren shakes out a pill and swallows it down with a swish of orange juice.

_"I can't believe you drink this shit." Warren grumbled._

_"Orange juice is orange juice." A shadowy figure said._

_"From concentrate is NOT orange juice." Warren picked up the carton and poured it down the sink._

_"Hey, I was going to drink that!"_

_"Sit down."_

_Warren moved to the fridge, grapping a couple of oranges. With a flick of a knife, they were cut. He held a half over the glass and squeezed. Arms wrapped around his middle, a nose pressed into his neck._

_"You know, if we moved in together, you could prevent me from making poor grocery decisions."_

As quickly as it came, it fades. And Warren's head begins to pound.

"You okay?"

Warren shakes his head, "Yeah, I thought I had remembered something, but it was nothing."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Baron Battle and Lord Pyre surveyed the bank.

"I don’t know, Father, it seems somehow beneath us to rob a bank."

"Pyre, bank jobs create payroll, not all of us are lucky to have enslaved a race for our minions. And with the way they are unionizing now, if we can't be competitive, which means.” He rolls his eyes, "Health, dental, and minimum wage, we'd be on our own."

“I understand.” He turns, stepping on his long cape. He nearly falls, before regaining his balance. He curses. “This outfit is ridiculous. Really, a cape? And I can barely move in this.” He gestures at the waistcoat and pants.

“Boy, we are royalty among villains, we must look the part.” Baron Battle brushes his hands down his red breast plate. He rests his hand on Lord Pyre's shoulder. “When we stride through those doors, there will be no mistaking who we are. Together we will be unstoppable."

_“Captain Unstoppable? Who comes up with these names?” The figure isn’t as dark this time. Warren can make out pink lips, and a strong line of the jaw. He reads from a list._

_“Better than Hot Head,” Warren countered, holding up a matching sheet of paper._

_The guy leaned over, glancing at Warren’s paper. “I’m kind of partial to The Flamer.” The lips opened, and there was a flash of white teeth in a goofy grin._

_“Really? You want to go there?” Warren snatched the other man’s sheet. “How about Boy Jolt,” he reads, raising an eyebrow, “for you.”_

_He laughed, head thrown back. “B—b—b,” he sputtered, and finally spit out “BJ and the Flamer!”_

_Warren grinned, and could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reaching over, he grabbed the man’s hand, tugging him to rest in the circle of his arms. He leaned down…_  
  
“…Pyre! Are you even listening?”

Warren shakes his head; another headache beats against his temple. “Sorry, Fa-Baron.”

The Baron eyes him. “Have you been taking your pills?”

“I thought I—was…”

“I didn’t ask what you thought,” the Baron snaps, “I asked if you did.”

“No but I--," Warren is cut off by a scream from above.

“Battle!” The Baron turns, and a man flies in, a flash of blue, fist raised. He swings wildly, fist connecting with a crunch on Baron’s check, causing him to go flying into the wall.

"Where is he?" The man demands, advancing on the Baron who is now flush against the wall, a trickle of blood sliding down his cheek.

The man is clad in a light blue, skin tight suit, with a yellow lightning bolt on the chest. He's young, perhaps a little younger than Warren. There is something about his arms, the way the muscles flex, and his face. He would be rather cute if it weren't for the anger in his eyes. In his brown-blue eyes.

Warren, no, he is Lord Pyre, growls, and flames dance on his forearms. He channels it into a single ball and hurls it at the stranger. It hits him square in the back, and the man falls to his knees.

Baron Battle laughs, striding to the fallen hero. He reaches down and with one meaty hand lifts him by the throat.

"Why if it isn't Jolt," he sneers. "So where's your daddy now?"

Pyre makes his way to his father's side. The hero's eyes widen, and his mouth gapes open, his lips move in silent words.

"Pyre, what should we do with this little hero?"

"Who is he?"

"He is the son of my archnemesis, The Commander.” Baron tightens his hold on the neck. “He's the one responsible for your memory loss. Would you like the honor of killing him?"

"NO!" Warren yelps, and pain shots up his temples. and then he coughs to hide the unknown burst of emotion. "No, we should-should keep him for bait. What better way than to draw out The Commander."

Baron Battle roars with laughter. "That's my son."

Jolt's eyes flutter, a tear slipping through, down his pale cheek, then he goes limp. Baron drops him. He lays on the roof, a splash of blue against the grey concrete. "Bring him."

Pyre bends down, sliding an arm under his neck and the other under his knees. Jolt's head rolls into Warren's chest, and under the waistcoat his heart pounds. A wave of-of-of something washes over Pyre, and with a grunt he tosses the limp body over his shoulder.  
He can't look at that face for another second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clock on the wall reads 3:21 when Warren slips from his bed. Something is nagging at him, like static in the back of his head. He pads down the corridor, past his father's room, and then down. Down to the holding cell.

The holding cell is square and sits in the basement. The anti-power metal holds the glass panes together. In the far corner, Jolt is huddled in an ball, shivering.

Warren reaches out, laying his hand on the glass. Heat flows through his fingertips, warming the glass and flowing warm air into the cold cell. Warren watches Jolt. Eventually, the shivering subsides, and the only movement is his breathing.

He closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against the glass. He's so tired all of a sudden. When he opens them, those brown-blue eyes are staring at him. He jerks back, nearly falling. When he rights himself, his hand is still pressed against the glass. Jolt slowly lifts his hand, and places it, mirroring Warren's.

Jolt is only a few inches shorter than Warren. His hair is brown, and messy, like he's been running his hand through it, red rimmed eyes glisten with tears, and no color in his checks. The worst is the neck which is an ugly array of bruises, sickly yellows, darkening to blues. Jolt’s lips are moving.

Warren has to know what he's saying. He knows it's important. He just wishes there were some--

Suddenly, Jolt is backing away, and Warren opens his mouth, to say ‘stop’ or ‘stay’, but the words die on his lips. His hand is red hot, and the glass around it is softening. All it takes is slight pressure, and his hand goes through. Jolt is back and reaching out,

"No, it'll--" Warren tries to give warning. But Jolt merely grabs his hand. His mouth moves, something about never and hurt. And Warren wishes he could hear Jolt's voice.

"How do I know you?" he breathes.

Jolt lifts Warren's hand and places a soft kiss on the palm. Jolt moves closer, still holding Warren's hand captive. He presses his face into the hand. And warm tears fall on to his fingertips.

"Will."

Jolt looks up and his mouth breaks into a smile. Warren grins and remembers. Sky High, their friendship, their first kiss in an alley when Jolt had stepped in front of a bullet meant for him.

"I'm going to get you out," Warren swears. He brushes his fingers over Will's cheek one last time before withdrawing his hand.

He braces his hands on the wall of the prison and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and sees fire. The wall is becoming pliable when he hears the rapping of knuckles on glass.

He clinches his jaw. "Hold on, Will, almost---"

Something wenches him away from the glass, sending him falling across the floor. He looks up and his father looms over him.

"Mentis," he shouts. "How did this happen?"

Dr. Mentis pushes his glasses up, "You did not tell me the depth of his," he sneers, "friendship with Jolt. I warned you if the feelings were too strong."

"You said only if he loved—" Baron Battle stops, he turns to Warren, mouth open.

Warren releases all the fire he'd been charging while Baron and Mentis bickered. A wave of fire crashes into Baron and he flies across the room. Warren glances over at Jolt. Will is pounding on the soft glass, and finally the wall gives and he stumbles through it.  
Jolt flies across the room, he grabs Warren under one arm. And surges up, right hand extended.

They hit the ceiling with a dull crack. Plaster rains down on Baron Battle and Dr. Mentis. From below Baron is bellowing something. But all Warren can hear is the air roaring in his ears.

They bust through the roof as dawn is breaking. The sky is tinged with soft pinks and yellows.

Warren closes his eyes. The static in his head is finally gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later they are home, lying in their bed. Warren is propped up on one hand, the other gently traces the edges of Will's throat.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

Will makes a soft sound, and catches Warren's hand, he kisses it and holds it against his cheek. He snuggles into Warren’s warm, and closes his eyes.

For the first time in nearly two months, Warren sleeps peacefully. He’s home.


End file.
